


"I know."

by ViolentVioletEye



Series: Schlatt is Tubbo's Father [4]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Apologies, Dad Jschlatt, DadJschlatt, Dadlatt, Fundy is a good boy, Gen, Hybrid History lesson time!, I majored in hurt/comfort in fanfic school and this is where all the hurt comes in, JSchlatt needs a hug too tbh, Minecraft dynamics, Sad Toby Smith | Tubbo, Toby Smith | Tubbo Needs a Hug, Trans Fundy, Trans Male Character, and quite frankly I am INSULTED that that tag doesn't exist yet, buckle up bitches, get the tissues!, hybrid racism implied, i wrote this in one sitting, it gets rough, ok someone take tagging privileges away from me, so much fucking angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:47:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27214405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViolentVioletEye/pseuds/ViolentVioletEye
Summary: Tubbo figures something out.
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity & Jschlatt, Floris | Fundy & Jschlatt & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Floris | Fundy & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Jschlatt & Toby Smith | Tubbo
Series: Schlatt is Tubbo's Father [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1980382
Comments: 96
Kudos: 1221





	"I know."

**Author's Note:**

> this was supposed to be short too.
> 
> Regardless, I hope y'all enjoy it! I'm very proud of this one >:3

Tubbo felt like he was going crazy.

His head was still tender but it didn’t ache anymore. He took great care in making sure he didn’t bump it against anything or turn his head too fast. He had been able to find a hybrid doctor, Quackity helped him; he had an appointment just a week before and she had given him an all-natural cream for him to rub on the stubs every morning and every time he got out of the shower. It wouldn’t have done anything while he was growing them in, but the cream helped with their soreness and sensitivity to touch around the base. She told him that he didn’t need to worry, they wouldn’t be so sensitive forever. They just had to get used to being out. She had been nice. She had told him that there was indeed ram DNA him, making him a ram. Tubbo liked her; her office had smelled of cinnamon and nutmeg and it gave a warm aura that matched her personality. She was a cut, and the ears that poke out of her brown hair were white and black. Tubbo wondered if she had a tail, but he knew better to ask. That would probably be pretty insensitive and racist to ask.

But he had so many questions and only one of them had been answered so far. That had been if he was a ram or not, and he was. Now, what did he do with that information? In the orphanage where he was raised, there had been no hybrids. Just human children. He wondered if those children had grown to find out that they were hybrids after they left, just like he had. He had no way of contacting them though, so he just let it be. But it didn’t change the fact that he knew next to nothing about his kind, and there were very few people he could go to to ask stuff about. The only hybrids he knew were Fundy and Schlatt. At any time he would have gone to Fundy without hesitation, but since the election, he had been putting distance between himself and the fox hybrid. He still had nightmares of him tearing down the walls, of the flag burning in the sky; he hated the colors of the new one. It just didn’t feel right. It looked so wrong. It wasn’t L’Manberg.

Then again, this place hadn’t been L’Manberg for a very long time.

But if he didn’t go to Fundy, the only other person was Schlatt. And there was no way he was going to be in the same room as him for any amount of time if he could help it. He was dodging meetings, showing up nearly an hour late to each one when there could only possibly be ten, thirty minutes left. He covered it up by saying he got caught up in paperwork, or a meeting with someone ran longer than it should have, even going so far as to saying he overslept as he scrambled to his chair, which was far away from their President. As Secretary of State, he should be sitting right by the President's side across from Quackity, but no one had corrected his choice of seat just yet.

If he didn’t go to either of them, then he would never find anything out. And that wouldn’t do. He needed to figure out who he was, why he was, and _why_ he was. Those three questions plagued his mind, made it so difficult to sleep even when he had been dead on his feet all day. It was why he felt like he was going insane. He was so tired, he wasn’t eating right, his horns hurt _so much,_ and his nerves seemed to be on the very surface of his skin. He couldn’t concentrate, he couldn’t do his job; whatever that job _was._ He still wasn’t sure. He didn’t even read half of the paperwork on his desk. He just signed it and moved on so he could get lunch on time. This was all so exhausting and crushing. He needed to get a few of those questions answered, or he was going to lose his fucking mind.

“Fundy?”

The fox looked up from his lunch, blinking at Tubbo before he beamed.

“Tubbo! Hey! It's been a while, man! How have you been?” For a moment, Tubbo almost felt sorry for ignoring his friend. They had been so close once, before, during, and after that terrible war. He looked just as he remembered, spoke the same way, and had the same friendly aura around him. He had huddled with Tommy and Tubbo during one horrible winter night, as the sound of fighting drifted in through their walls, keeping them warm. The younger man was practically a heat blanket. Was that part of being a fox?

But then he remembered how he had torn down the walls, he remembered the burning flag, he remembered how he did nothing to help his father as he was run out of a nation he had built for Fundy in the first place, to give him a place where he was protected and loved. He had promised Fundy _everything,_ and Tubbo _still_ couldn’t understand how the fox had just turned his back on him.

 _Just like a fox,_ he thought bitterly, and then felt a wave of horror wash over him.

Oh, fuck. Where had that come from? And was he really any better? What had he expected Fundy to do? Run after him, exile himself with him and Tommy? Not even Tubbo had done that, and Tommy was his best friend! Hell, he hadn’t left the lands _once_ since that horrible election. Who was he to push such a double standard on Fundy, simply because Wilbur was his father? Tommy had been like a brother to him, and he had just stood there and _watched_ as he was driven…

“I have questions,” he blurted out when he noticed Fundy looking at him strangely. Shit, how long had he just been standing there? Fundy quirked an eyebrow, biting into his sandwich. “About— about being a hybrid.” He gestured up to his head, where the stubs of his horns were still hidden by his hair. The blond was beginning to fade from the locks, and he couldn’t decide if he should dye it again. The doctor had told him that it was actually okay to dye his hair, so long as he used some hair dye she suggested. She said she dyed her hair pink now and then, to give herself a splash of color. In the list was his usual go-to hair dye, which was a big stroke of luck, but… He hadn’t bought any yet. He couldn’t decide if he _should._

“Oh, okay!” Fundy smiled at him after he swallowed his bite. “I— don’t know much about rams, I’m afraid. But, I could give you the history of hybrids?” Tubbo nodded and sat down across from him, trying not to fidget too much.

“That's fine.” It was. Any information was good information. Any information brought him a step closer to understanding just what he _was._ Fundy nodded and pushed the last bit of his sandwich into his mouth, brushing his hands against his pants before he leaned back in his chair.

“Alright. So, we really aren’t sure when hybrids showed up, or how. They think it might have been a glitch in some code, or that Notch was having a little more fun with creation than he should’ve been; either way, the farthest back they can trace them is 1.0, just after the beta updates…”

Fundy knew a lot about the history of hybrids. It couldn’t be done in one lunch period, so they opt to go out to dinner after they were done. And it was… nice. Tubbo hadn’t gone out of the White House since he had grown his horns in. He wasn’t sure if it was because of growing in his horns, but he just felt… Apprehensive about it. He wanted to stay in the White House. He felt anxious every time he so much as thought about leaving. He was sure his home was a dust mine now, and he hadn’t even gone to visit that bench; his and Tommy’s bench. He excused it by saying he was just so busy, and if he was going to be missing meetings then he should at least get a lot of work done to keep Schlatt off his back.

But, when he met up with Fundy and the two left for this nice little retro diner down the street, he was able to fight with his anxiety long enough to settle down after they ordered their drinks. Fundy got a coke, and Tubbo got root beer. While they discussed the menu, Fundy told him about all of the wars hybrids fought with humans just to get their independence and their rights. And even now, it was still debated on whether or not they were truly free. Hate crimes happened every day and very rarely did the victims and their families see justice. Some servers were much better about it. Others were not. Back when the draft still existed, it was obvious that hybrids were drafted much more than regular humans. There were cases of people being denied treatment, some would be turned down for adopting a child, _especially_ if it was a human child, and hybrid children were often discarded out onto the street or placed in horrible, run-down orphanages when they lost their parents.

It made Tubbo sick. He could barely eat his fries and burger, while Fundy munched on his meatloaf and hashbrowns without even giving pause.

“How can you say this so calmly, Fundy?” Tubbo finally asked when he felt like he was going to burst into tears from all the injustice. He had never been a fighter. Even during the war. He knew how to patch up wounds better than he knew how to give them. Tommy was the exact opposite. They were usually the opposite of each other. That was a big part of their own friendship. They balanced each other out. “It sounds… It's so horrible!”

Fundy looked at him with pity. “It's just how life was and is, Tubbo. I can’t do much. I’ve only ever faced racism a couple of times, back in the city my fa… Wilbur raised me in; it only got worse when I became trans.” Right. Tubbo forgot about that sometimes. He supposed that was the point though, right? Fundy balled up his napkin and set it down on the table with a sigh. “I haven’t faced it that much since Wilbur brought us here and started L’Manberg. But, honestly, Tubbo?” He smiled sadly. “I think it's just because I’m so high up in politics and respected by the big names here. Hybrid-haters attack nobodies, lower-class citizens that few people outside of their class give a damn about. If they attack someone like me, who's got some friends in pretty high places and several judges…” He shrugged. “They’re gonna think twice about it.”

“That's horrible,” Tubbo whispered after a moment. Fundy nodded.

“Yeah. It is. There’s not much I can do about it right now, with my position and all. But, don’t be so down!” He smiled. “Schlatt’s a hybrid, isn’t he? So, I bet he’s gonna change some big things for us!”

Tubbo nodded, his head whirling around Schlatt’s name and the information he had just received. Finally, he asked the question he had been debating with asking for a while now.

“Fundy, I heard about this thing with hybrids. I wanted to know if it was real or just some stereotype.” Fundy smiled at him kindly, and oh, how Tubbo ached for better days.

“Ask away!” Tubbo took a deep breath.

“Is it true that hybrids can… sense… when they’re related to someone?” Fundy blinked, then pursed his lips. He took a bite of his meatloaf and chewed it thoughtfully, tilting his head to the side as he swallowed.

“Well… Yes. I suppose so. I guess sense is a good word for it, but it's more so just in your instincts. Our codes share some resemblance to our parents, just like normal humans do with theirs, but they usually have to look into someone’s codes to see that. For hybrids like us, our animal instincts help us just… Know. When you meet a family member for the first time, like a long lost sibling, or you see your parents for the first time in a long time, and they give you a big hug or touch you in some way, your instincts will ‘jump.’ Hybrid scientists say it's like our instincts are really happy to be near someone like us again, especially someone like our parents. It's in our instincts to feel safe and protected around our parents.”

Fundy paused.

“... Usually.”

Tubbo stared down at his burger. He had only eaten one-fourth of it, and maybe three fries. He wasn’t very hungry anymore.

“Oh, and when you’ve been away from them for really long, you really don’t wanna leave them. You wanna cling to them for a bit, just until you’ve settled.”

“Let's say a hybrid never met their parents.” Fundy blinked. “And then… They meet someone, and when they first touch, their entire body jolts. Like they’ve been shocked. Does— Does that make that person their parent?” Fundy furrowed his eyebrows.

“Uh, well… It could mean they’re their parent or even a sibling. The defying factor would be that, if they’re their parent, then they don’t want to be away from them. Neither of them does. And instincts for the person in question would take over and they should show parental qualities. Let's use a ram for an example since you are one; I’ve heard that they’re very protective of their children. They watch them like hawks and they’ll tear apart _anyone_ that so much as looks at their child wrong. They look out for them, they try to do what's best for them to make them happy and safe. Ram hybrids have the highest percentage of dying for their children, just so they can live another day. I got this all from this book I got from the library after Schlatt was elected. I wanted to make sure I wasn’t going to accidentally insult our President in any way, you know?” Tubbo didn’t say anything. Fundy blinked.

“... Tubbo, are you—?”

“Can I borrow that book?”

Schlatt’s eyes were stinging. He was exhausted. So much paperwork, so little time to actually sit down and do it. He had known being President was going to be exhausting, but it hadn’t prepared him for so many sleepless nights and the gallons of coffee had probably chugged in the weeks since he had become President. They were edging onto his first month now, and there was talk of some sort of celebration for it. But he was too fucking tired for it. He would shove the planning onto Quackity if the people wanted it so goddamn _badly._

He stared down at his paperwork and realized the words were spinning. He shut his eyes and took a deep breath and let it out as slowly as he could. It was about time he just turned in for the day. It was nearly three o’clock after all, and he had a meeting at six. He should get some hours of sleep, and fuel the rest up with coffee. He capped his pen and put it on his desk, gathering up his paperwork to put it away. It was then that his door flew open, striking the wall so roughly a painting fell off one of its nails and dangled on one, tilted downwards now because of it. Schlatt’s head flew up, eyes light with the primal instinct to fight, but all he saw was teary, furious blue eyes before a book was slammed down onto the desk.

_The History and Instincts of Ram Hybrids_

He stared at it before he looked at the man—the _teen_ —standing in front of him. It was Tubbo, of course. He was in his green sweatshirt and sweatpants like he had been settling down for the night. Tearstains were on his cheeks, and more tears were threatening to spill as they shone in his eyes. He looked furious and distraught all at the same time and it made Schlatt's heart ache.

“Are you my father?”

The kid pushed the words out through gritted teeth, clenched so tightly Schlatt was worriedly they would crack under the pressure. He could see himself in Tubbo the most at that point, where he was so angry he was pushing his words out from behind his teeth, where his hands were clenched like he was ready to fight, his eyes lit with an almost primal rage. If his horns were more grown in, they would remind Schlatt of his soldier days.

_“Are you?!”_

Schlatt stood as the kid stalked around his desk, backing away as Tubbo shoved his chair to the side. It tilted and then fell off its wheels, crashing against the wall and then sliding down to the floor with a clatter. The office door flew open and the guard that had been placed for duty that night peered in, confused and worried before their eyes widened as they saw the Secretary of State backing the President against the wall. “Mr. President!” They shouted, stepping forward, but stopped when Schlatt lifted his hand towards them as his back hit the wall. He had nowhere to go, nowhere to hide, yet as he stared down at Tubbo his face was decisively blank. He didn’t budge or flinch, even when Tubbo’s fist punched his chest. _“Are you?!”_ Tubbo screamed. “When were you going to tell me?! After you had taken everything away from me?! Were you going to use it against me?! Were you going to manipulate me with it?!” Both of his fists pounded against Schlatt’s chest and a horrible scream built up in his throat, wrenching itself out before Tubbo could stop it.

“Fuck you! _Fuck you!_ You took _everything_ from me! Why did it have to be you?!” The tears spilled down his cheeks as anger and grief shared the same tiny body as it trembled. He pulled his arm back further and hit Schlatt with all he had, and the President finally gave a small grunt before he reached up and caught Tubbo’s wrist. The same jolt that he had felt in varying degrees since they had first met shook his body again, and another horrible scream ripped from his throat. _“Why did it have to be you?!”_ The harsh words were accompanied by a broken sob and his legs shook like he was going to collapse. He didn’t get the chance to as Schlatt wrapped his arm around his waist, holding him up until he carefully slid them down the wall so they were on the floor together, with Tubbo on his knees between Schlatt’s legs. He pounded his fist against his chest again, but it was weaker than before. It had little strength behind it now. He tried to scream again, but all that came out was another broken sob.

 _“Fuck you,”_ he whispered, _“fuck you, I hate you, I hate…”_ He trailed off into sobs, and his head suddenly felt too heavy. The stubs of his horns ached and his head fell forward, his furrowed brow meeting the cool fabric of Schlatt’s suit as Schlatt’s other hand reached up and cupped the back of his head, brushing fingers through his blond-brown strands in such a familiar way that it made Tubbo want to scream again. He couldn’t remember much past the pain of growing his horns, but he did remember skilled, calloused fingers running through his hair, pouring water onto it and his face, he could remember a voice muttering to him in the same way Schlatt was muttering to him now.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Tubbo sobbed into his chest, clutching at the front of his suit. Schlatt shut his eyes and bowed his head beside his, his breath fanning against Tubbo’s shoulder. A tear followed and it made Tubbo jump, another choked sound leaving his lips.

_“I’m so sorry, Tubbo.”_

**Author's Note:**

> :((((.


End file.
